"Luck, Luck in tha Bag!" Tom, cried "Come try yer luck in tha lucky bag; part of a century. She was extremely illiterate, so much so, as not to be able to write, and, I think, could scarcely read. She lived for some years in a house be longing to my father, and while a boy, I was very often her gratuitous amanuensis, in writing letters for her to her children. She possessed, however, considerable shrewdness, energy, and perseverance, and amassed property to the amount of several hundred pounds. She had three husbands; the name of the first was, I be lieve, Gool or Gould, a relation of Thomas Gool, the subject of the above Poem; the name of the second was Martin, of the third Pain; but as the last lived a short time only after having married her, she always continued to be called Joannah Martin. Joannah was first brought into public notice by the Rev. Mr. WARNER, in his Walks through the Western Counties, published in 1800, in which work will be found a lively and interesting description of her, and with which I have reason to know that Joannah was not a little pleased; but she often said that she should wish me to write her life, as I was, of course, more intimately acquainted with it than any casual inquirer could possibly be. An additional notice of Joannah appears in the Monthly Magazine, for Nov. 1816, page 310. This notice was written by myself; I allude to it in order to 66 All prizes, norra blank, "Norra blank, âll prizes! "A waiter-knife-or scissis sheer "A splat o' pins-put in my dear!"Whitechapel nills âll sizes. “Luck, Luck in tha Bag!-only a penny vor a venter-you mid git, a-mâ-be, a girt prize-a Rawman waiter!-I can avoord it as cheap as thic that stawl it-I a bote it ta trust, an niver intend to pâ vor't. Luck, Luck in tha bag! âll prizes, norra blank! observe, that I believe I have somewhere, among my papers, the original song, of which she was the authoress, and which I copied from her dictation many years ago, the only copy, I presume, in existence; I regret that I cannot now lay my hand upon it: it contains, of course, much of the Somersetshire idiom. I have more than once heard her sing this song, which was satirical, and related to the conduct of a female, one of her neighbours, who had, without the least apparent necessity, become a thief. Such was JOANNAH MARTIN, a woman who, had she been more fortunately and favourably thrown-had she moved in a sphere where her original talents and energies could have been improved by education, her name might have been added to the list of distinguished female worthies of our country. "Luck, Luck in tha Bag! Good Luck! "Put in an try yer fortin; "Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag! "You'll git a prize vor sartin. "Come, niver mine tha single-sticks, "Tha whoppin or tha stickler; "You dwon't want now a brawken head, " Nor jitchy zoort o' tickler! "Now Lady! yer prize is—'A SNUFF-Box,' "A treble-japann'd Pontypool! "You'll shower come again ta my Luck in tha bag, "Or niver trust me- TOMMY GOOL. Luck, Luck in tha bag! Good Luck! "Put in an try yer fortin; "Come, try yer luck in tha lucky bag! "You'll git a prize vor sartin!" MARY RAMSEY'S CRUTCH. I ZENG O' Mary Ramsey's Crutch! Er little crutch she'd gee ta I. Did Mary love me? eese a b'leeve. —a veo vor her did grieve,— Poor Mary ôten used ta tell O' dâs a past that pleas'd er well; I'll zâ na moor-zaw, forè well!† *This Lady, when her scholars neglected their duty, or behaved ill, rubbed their fingers with the leaves of rue! + Fare ye well. I |